


A Mustamova New Year

by mustdefine



Category: Gymnastics RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustdefine/pseuds/mustdefine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliya and Viktoria celebrate the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mustamova New Year

**Author's Note:**

> New Year’s in Russia is an important holiday and is somewhat similar to a Western Christmas. Eastern Orthodox families celebrate Christmas on January 7th.

The train is filling up with athletes going home for break. It’s like the Russian version of the Hogwarts Express minus the candy, pastries, or magic. They’ve got two full weeks of vacation to enjoy and the holidays to anticipate, so the atmosphere is one of general revelry. There’s already a few flasks and bottles going round. Viktoria ducks one as she boards the train. Some of her friends are waving at her, but Vika pretends not to see them. She’s got her eye on another prize.

One of the juniors is about to sit in the seat next to Aliya Mustafina. Vika practically body-checks her out of the way. “Saw it first!” Vika chirps. Kuzmina looks annoyed but struggles off down the aisle to sit with her age-mates. Satisfied, Vika drops into the seat and kicks her bag out of the way.

“You must be switching to hockey,” Aliya says dryly. 

“I think we can all agree my talents are wasted in gymnastics.”

A flask comes their way. The girls each take a swig. Vika turns around to pass it on and Masha catches her eye a few rows down. ”Come sit with us!” she calls.

Vika shrugs and sweeps a hand at her seat as if to indicate that, well, she’s here already; switching seats would be too much trouble. The train has started moving, after all. Her best friend sticks her tongue out and Vika turns around again. Next to her, Aliya is texting someone and doesn’t seem inclined to further question Vika’s seat choice. Which is good, because normally Vika wouldn’t be sitting here at all, and she doesn’t have any good excuses.

She and Aliya aren’t close the way Vika and Masha are close. Aliya is older, not by much but by enough that they each have their own circle of friends. Not that Aliya’s unfriendly. Far from it; she’s always been nice to Vika. But she’d turned senior a year before Vika, she’s been Vika’s main rival on the team, and she’s not outgoing and loud like all of Vika’s other friends. Sure, she can be volatile and emotional in the gym when training isn’t going well, but she keeps to herself otherwise. Easy for an extrovert to overlook her as a friend.

But over the last six months, Vika has begun to realize exactly what she’s been missing out on. Aliya’s quiet support had helped her get through the all-around at the Olympics. And after, as Vika dealt with the emotional fallout of her failure at the Games. Kind words, a shoulder to cry on more than once, a well-timed joke or two … and always a hug and a kiss for the girl everyone had prophesied would eclipse her. Little things have begun to stand out about Aliya: movement, humor. Character. Vika wishes very much that she could be part of the older girl’s small circle of close friends, trusted with the parts of Aliya Mustafina that the world at large doesn’t get to see. And beyond that: to be trusted to touch and taste. But she isn’t sure if Aliya feels the same. She probably still sees Viktoria as a goofy kid, the headcase who made mistakes in team finals and lost the all-around. Vika worries about what will happen if she reveals her feelings too early. The worst thing she could think of is for Aliya to shut her out. So Vika is cautious. Or tries to be, at least. Tries to show that she wants to be closer friends without giving away how much she wants more.

“Any big plans for your break, Alka?” Vika asks.

Aliya’s returned from the land of texting. “Sleep. See my friends. Do a shit-ton of shopping. What about you?” She shifts sideways to see Vika better.

“Same. Hang out with my family a lot.”

“What will you do for New Years?”

“We usually have a family party. Sometime’s it’s just us, but this year we’re inviting other family. It’s going to be a ton of fun.”

“Yeah? And how do the Komovs party?” Aliya toys with the cuff on Vika’s jacket, fingers brushing the sensitive skin at Vika’s wrist. Vika suddenly finds it hard to speak.

“Uh. We eat a lot, drink too much, go watch the fireworks. Drink some more. We take a week to recover and then do it again for Christmas. What will your family do?” Vika thinks she remembers Aliya’s family is Orthodox, not Muslim. 

“Pretty much the same. Probably fight a lot,” Aliya says reflectively. “No, actually, that’s just me and Nelya.” She grins. “I love her, but we’re too old to share a bedroom. In a few days we’ll both be climbing the walls. So I’m planning to go out a lot with my friends. Moscow’s so busy during the holidays, there’s always something to do.”

“That sounds exciting. You should send me a picture or something so I can live vicariously through you.”

“What, you’re telling me Voronezh isn’t a hotbed of nightlife?”

Vika jerks a thumb at herself. “You’re looking at Voronezh’s nightlife.”

“That’s depressing.”

“What’s depressing is that I haven’t taken any pictures of all this hotness we’ve got going on here. Get in my phone, woman,” Vika says, opening her camera app. Aliya chuckles and obligingly shifts closer. On the last picture, Aliya leans over and plants a kiss on her cheek. They laugh at the giant goofy smile Vika has on her face when they go through the photos.

“You look like you won the lottery.”

“If only.” Vika nestles comfortably against Aliya’s shoulder and takes one last picture. “There. Now I won’t miss you so much.”

She can feel Aliya’s surprise, but the other girl says only, “We’ll all be back together soon enough.” She drops a quick kiss on the top of Vika’s head. Vika closes her eyes and wishes the the train ride to Moscow was longer. After far too short a period, the loudspeaker announces their impending arrival. Most of the gymnasts and swimmers start preparing to disembark. They’ll have friends and family waiting to pick them up, but Vika has to transfer. 

“How long is it to Voronezh?” Aliya asks, pulling her backpack out from under the seat.

“About seven hours,” Vika says glumly. She isn’t looking forward to being by herself for that long. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” Aliya digs in her backpack and hands Vika a small stuffed bear. “Here, this will keep you company.”

Vika recognizes it—a good-luck charm bought at a competition earlier this year. “Alka, you shouldn’t.”

“I’m bringing my little cousins too many toys anyway. Go on, take it. Then you’ll have a friend for your train ride.” Aliya grins at her and somehow Vika finds herself taking the bear. She tries not to read too much into the sweet gesture. It’s hard not to when she wants everything to mean something.

They get off the train in a confusion of gym bags and bodies. Vika almost loses Aliya but manages to keep pace with her until they get off the platform and have to part. 

“So I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.” She hears the forced cheerfulness in her own voice and winces internally. She’s never been a good liar. Vika thinks that maybe there’s a question in Aliya’s eyes, but no, she’s probably fooling herself, Aliya must want to say goodbye and go home.

The older girl hugs her. “See you. And cheer up, that train ride will be over before you know it.”

Vika returns the embrace for just a moment longer than she should. Then Aliya is gone, torn from her by the crowd as if Vika has no hold on her. She swallows once and turns away to find her next train, clutching the little bear.

*   *   *

The Voronezh station is busy this time of day. She cheers up at the sight of its familiar flowered ceiling and stained glass windows. Her mother picks her up and they spend the ride home talking animatedly about the holidays, the menu for the New Year’s party, and Vera’s gym.

“But enough about my girls! How are yours? I haven’t seen them in so long!” Vera comes up to Round Lake sometimes to judge competitions but hasn’t made the trip recently, so Vika tells a few funny stories: the latest development in her prank war with Masha, a handstand contest with Yulia, meeting some pompous politician and doing impressions of him for days afterward in the gym behind the coaches’ backs. Vera laughs in all the right places. And then she says, “And how is Aliya?”

“Oh, uh, good. Aliya’s good. Yep.” Vika curses her sudden inability to form coherent sentences.

Her mother says casually, “She seems like an interesting girl. Reminds me of one of my teammates way back when. Are you two going to meet up to hang out like you did in September?”

“Um, probably not. That would be fun, but I’m sure she’s too busy. She’s got lots of stuff going on back home.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. You know, you could always bring a friend home with you for the holidays. The more the merrier.”

Vika wonders what her mom is getting at. But they’re already pulling up to the small house that she hasn’t seen in far too long. The front door swings open to reveal Sasha, who’s holding her dog, and Vika forgets about Vera’s line of inquiry in a joyful reunion.

Later that evening, after she’s caught up with her family, Vika lies in bed and goes through the pictures on her phone. She flicks back and forth between the pictures repeatedly, eyes lingering on Aliya’s face. After a time she sighs heavily and turns the light off.

*   *   * 

The first day home is heavenly. She has tea with her father in the morning before he leaves for work and makes plans with Sasha to hang out later. In the meantime she goes with her mother to the gym. All the girls are so excited to see her. Vika obligingly signs autographs and takes photos until her mother eventually shoos her class back to practice. Vika hops on the old elliptical and does some beam work, happy to be going at her own pace for once.

She has some free time when they come home after the gym and going grocery shopping. Sasha’s out with friends and will pick her up later. Vika helps put the groceries away, plays with Kutya, checks her VK, and ends up lying on the couch. Having nothing to do is sheer luxury. She plays a game on her phone for a while, free hand stroking her dog’s soft fur.

She looks again at the pictures from the train, studying them closely, analytically. There, Aliya’s hand cups her face. There, a certain look in Aliya’s eyes. If Vika squints. 

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”

Vika fumbles her phone. It slides off her chest and onto Kutya, who jumps up and whuffs in surprise. ”Uh, what?” Vika says as she tries to calm her dog.

“Aliya. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Vika says distractedly, or at least she hopes her mother will attribute her tone to distraction.

Vera smiles at her. “Let’s make pizza tonight.”

“OK.” As her mother saunters off, Vika tries to dismiss her suspicions. If Vera has something to say, she’d say it outright. The Komov family doesn’t keep secrets.

*   *   *

The next few days are spent seeing friends and enjoying her family. The Saturday before New Year’s, Vika and her mother spend the afternoon baking and singing along to the radio. Vika gets to stir the batter (“better put those muscles to use,” Vera says) and taste-test it to make sure they aren’t going to poison their relatives. 

Their caterwauling along to a Christmas song is interrupted by Vika’s dog. Kutya’s going crazy, bounding up on the couch and barking at nothing. Vika reprimands him from her station in the kitchen, but her mother says, “Maybe someone’s out there.”

“No one’s coming over, Mom,” Vika says. “Unless someone’s so excited about our party they forgot how to read a calendar.”

Vera simply smiles and takes the bowl of cookie dough from her to stir. “Check outside, dear.”

Vika goes to kneel beside Kutya on the couch so she can peer out the window. A taxi is rolling up the driveway.  _Who the hell … ?_ She slides her feet into her boots and clomps outside, ignoring the chill despite her thin shirt. When the door opens, the wind whips dark hair everywhere. Vika knows that figure too well to need to see the face, but she’s frozen in disbelief anyway. 

“Alka?”

The way Aliya’s face breaks into a slow smile makes Vika’s insides quiver. 

“Komova, you going to stand there freezing your ass off or come help me with my luggage?”

Vika’s grinning so hard her cheeks are starting to hurt. Suddenly her paralysis is broken. She runs up to Aliya and attacks her with a hug. Aliya feels solid and familiar under the heavy coat. She says, “Oof, what a welcome.”

Vika pulls back. ”All right, Mustafina, you get to come inside on one condition,” she says firmly.

“Hmm,” Aliya says, wearing that amused smile. “Let’s hear it.”

“You tell me exactly what you’re doing here and just how long you’ve been planning this.”

“Technically that’s two conditions.”

“Do  _you_  want to keep standing here freezing your ass off?”

Aliya’s laugh is Vika’s favorite music, even—especially—when it’s directed at her.  

After Aliya pays for the cab and the two girls wrestle her baggage out of the trunk, Vika takes her visitor inside. Vera greets Aliya with a big hug. It’s clear Vera was expecting her. They chat about the train ride from Moscow to Voronezh and what the weather’s like in Moscow, are you looking forward to New Year’s, yes, these cookies are in fact the famous family recipe and they should be ready in a few minutes—

And all the while Vika can’t stop sneaking glances at the girl next to her at the table to check once more that it’s really her, she’s really  _here_ , and maybe Vika means more to Aliya than she’d dared hope possible.

*   *   * 

Vera shoos the girls off to get Aliya settled in while she slides the cookie sheets into the oven. They lug Aliya’s bags down the hall to her room, where Vika heaves them into a corner and turns to say something mocking about overpacking. Aliya’s standing next to the bed looking at something. Oh. The toy bear. Which Vika definitely hasn’t been sleeping with for the past few nights.

“Was he good company on the train?” Aliya asks.

“Oh, yeah, he’s a great conversationalist.” Vika feels her face growing warm for no reason. She sits on the bed to gain a moment to compose herself. Aliya sits down too, quite close. “So you never answered my questions.”

“Your questions?”

“My requirements, actually. For allowing you to set foot in my house.”

Aliya’s throaty chuckle sends a tingle up Vika’s spine. She’s suddenly aware that she’s going to be sharing a bed with this improbably attractive girl for the next few days. 

“All right. I’m here to investigate the rumor that your family bakes the best cookies in the entire country.”

“We absolutely do, but that is not a real answer. How long have you even been planning this little surprise?”

Aliya shrugs airily. “I’ve been forbidden to release the details to you. Something about classified information and your lacking the proper clearances.”

It appears that Vera has been plotting behind her back. Not that Vika minds. “That’s total bullshit and I’m going to get the truth out of you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, I’ll try.” Vika pounces on her friend and tickles her sides. Aliya giggles and squirms under her. It’s distractingly hot, enough so that Vika lets her guard down for an instant. Aliya takes advantage and reverses their positions with some wrestling move Farhat must have taught her.

“No fair,” Vika pants. She tries not to stare too obviously at Aliya’s mouth only inches from hers.

“Never pick a fight with a Mustafina,” Aliya purrs. “We always win.”

It’s difficult to make a witty rejoinder when Aliya is pinning Vika with the full length of her body. Vika says the first thing she can think of that makes any sense. “Congratulations. You gonna get off me any time soon?” She immediately thinks,  _Crap, why did I say that, I don’t want her to get off._  But Aliya tweaks her nose and falls onto her side right next to Vika, so that isn’t so bad. 

“How long are you here for?”

“A couple days. My parents want me home for Christmas.”

“You’re staying for New Year’s?”

Aliya props her head on a hand and looks down at Vika. “Yeah. Partying with the Komovs sounded like fun. Better than getting crushed to death in Red Square.”

“You’ll have a good time. I promise.” Vika can’t wipe the smile off her face or stop staring at Aliya. And Aliya isn’t looking away, either.

Footsteps sound in the hall before Vera enters the room with a small plate of cookies. “Fresh from the oven, girls. Enjoy!” She winks at Vika for some reason before she leaves. 

Aliya picks up a cookie and takes one bite. She frowns, takes another bite. Then she shoves the entire cookie into her mouth and mumbles, “Om’guh. Thshsh hmazhing.” 

Vika smirks and airplanes another cookie toward her friend. “You sound surprised.”

Aliya delicately nips off a piece. “Your family is full of surprises, Komova.”

*   *   *

Sasha comes home from work not long after Aliya shows up. He seems to have been expecting Aliya too. His welcome is cordial, if not as effusive as Vera’s. “So you’re the one,” he says as he shakes her hand. “I heard one of Vika’s friends might be coming to visit.”

“That’s me.”

“Sasha, we want to go to a movie. Will you take us? Pleeeeaaaase? I’ll buy you sushi first,” Vika says, batting her eyelashes at him.

Her brother laughs good-naturedly. “When have I ever passed up free food?”

They hop in Sasha’s old car and rattle off to their favorite hole-in-the-wall sushi place. Vika goes over the menu with her friend, leaning into Aliya’s shoulder as they squint at the tiny print. Her hair tickles Vika’s cheek but Vika doesn’t mind. “You’d like that one. Or that. It’s kind of like what you got that one time in Zelenograd.”

“I think you mean ‘that one time I ate all your sushi.”

Vika giggles. “I kinda did, didn’t I?” 

“You have to keep an eye on that one. She’s a vulture,” Sasha says, smiling.

“Don’t I know it,” Aliya says.

After they order, Sasha folds his arms on the table. “So. Aliya. You must be an incredibly patient person to put up with my sister every day. What with her terrible sushi-stealing habits and all.”

“Sasha,” Vika groans. This better not be the part where Sasha takes it into his head to embarrass her. If he brings up the fishing incident, she  _will_  hurt him.

“Eh. She’s not so bad.” 

Vika pokes her. “Thanks for that ringing endorsement.”

“What do you two do for fun up at Krugloye Ozero? I know Vika’s always busy with training and school.”

“We don’t have much time for fun. Mostly we watch movies and sleep.”

“Right, right. So you’re going to university, I hear? What are you interested in?”

“I’m in my first year of business management and econ studies. I like science and math too.”

“Science and math,” Sasha repeats. “So do you tutor Vika?”

“Sometimes.”

“For your information, my marks are much better than yours ever were, thanks to her.” 

“Ha ha, glad to see someone can get Vika to pay attention. What’s your secret?”

“I take away her phone.”

“What? And she, uh, she lets you do that?”

“She doesn’t give me a choice,” Vika says, mock-scowling.

“Huh,” Sasha says. He looks thoughtful.

After the movie, Vika uses the bathroom. She checks her hair and makeup in the mirror. When she comes out, Sasha and Aliya are waiting further down the hallway and talking. Sasha is clearly communicating something important. He gestures with contained motions in the space between them. Aliya’s face is serious as she replies. Vika catches the end of it.

“… but I understand why you had to ask that.”

“Ask what?”

Sasha drapes an arm around her. “Ask if it’s OK to kidnap you for tomorrow. Clear your schedule, we’re going sledding!”

Vika grins. She loves sledding. But she really wants to know what the two had been discussing earlier. She doesn’t get the chance to ask, though, because Sasha asks her, “What did you think of the movie?”

“Oh, I liked it.”

“Aliya, what about you?”

“I found it equally improbable and entertaining. Especially the thing with the guy.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

 _It’s nice that they’re bonding,_  Vika thinks.

*   *   *

Later that evening after the girls get ready for bed, they watch a TV episode Aliya has saved on her laptop. Aliya keeps nodding off during the quiet bits. 

“You want to turn it off and go to sleep?”

“No, I’m watching,” Aliya says, yawning. “Just tired. Long day.”

Vika wraps her hands around Aliya’s arm and snuggles against her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. “

The other girl kisses her hair. “Me too,  _golubushka_.”

Aliya’s breathing slows gradually over the next few minutes. Vika watches her drift off to sleep. She traces the line of brow, nose, and lips with her eyes, memorizing what it feels like to have Aliya right next to her. Once she’s sure her friend is asleep, she puts away the laptop and turns the lights off. 

When she wakes up the next morning, Aliya is curled around her, one arm thrown over her hips. Vika lies in bed smiling like an idiot until Aliya stirs against her. She turns her head and says, “About time you woke up.”

Hazel eyes blink sleepily at her. “Mmm. Forgot where I was.”

“You’re here, silly. With me. No coaches yelling at you. Plenty of tasty fattening foods you should avoid. Pure hell, basically.”

“I like it all right.”

Vika turns over underneath the weight of Aliya’s arm. “I like it here too.”

A lazy smile spreads across Aliya’s face. “Let’s stay in bed.”

Some suggestions along those lines occur to Vika. She does not say any of them, though she’d like to. “Five more minutes and then I’m dragging your ass out of bed. We’ve got places to be and sledding to do, remember?”

“Will there be hot chocolate later?”

“If you want it.”

“I do.”

“Then there will be hot chocolate.”

“You take such good care of me,” Aliya murmurs. 

“Someone has to,” Vika says. She wonders if that’s pushing the boundaries of Aliya’s self-sufficiency a little too far. Aliya doesn’t like people butting in where they’re not wanted. And the older girl is giving her a look right now that she can’t quite read. But Aliya just pats her hip and says, “How about you take care of my breakfast?” and the uncertainty of the moment is lost in a recitation of breakfast options. 

*  *  *

After church and lunch, Sasha takes the girls to the family sledding spot, a hill above a nearby school that’s just the right height: long enough to work up some speed, but not so steep that they spend most of their sledding time laboring uphill. Two of their cousins meet them there. The plan is to introduce Aliya to some of the family so she’ll know more people at the party. Vika performs the introductions, feeling an odd sense of pride—not in Aliya’s recent Olympic achievements, which she knows better than to mention, but in the fact that Aliya has chosen to be here with her.

“This is my friend Aliya. She’s from Moscow, visiting for the holidays. These are our cousins, Piotr and Anya. They’ll be at the holiday party.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Anya says cheerfully and extends a hand. Piotr’s jaw hangs open a little. His sister has to nudge him before he shuffles forward.

“Hi,” he mutters. Sasha and Vika exchange a look. Aliya smiles politely and adjusts Sasha’s old pair of snow pants around her hips, somehow managing to look gorgeous even swaddled in puffy cold-weather gear.

Sasha has the presence of mind to divert them all from Piotr’s instant crush. He stamps a foot in the snow and holds a bare finger up to test the breeze. “Excellent conditions,” he says, affecting a pretentious air. “A fast track for today’s competition. Care to place your bets? On anyone who isn’t me, fastest sledder in all of Voronezh Oblast?”

Anya laughs. “In your dreams.” She flings herself on her sled and is gone in moments. Sasha puts his glove back on and follows quickly, and Piotr after him, although not without a shy glance backward at Aliya.

“I always knew you preferred younger men.”

“I’m so glad you know what I like.”

“I’m just saying. He’s only fourteen. Easy, killer.”

Aliya rolls her eyes heavenward and kicks her sled into position, sitting down with an air of resignation. “It’s going to be like this all day, isn’t it?”

Vika grins. “I won’t say another word.  _If_  you can catch me.” She takes a running start and belly flops onto her sled. Behind her, Aliya furiously paddles at the ground with her hands. Vika grins into the wind. 

They spend almost two hours careening downhill, trudging back up, and talking smack in between. Vika knows Aliya isn’t a people person, but she’d figured that having an activity to do would help ease any awkwardness around her cousins. She’s pleased to see Aliya loosen up over the course of the afternoon. Puppy love has rendered Piotr effectively inarticulate, but Anya’s blithe friendliness and bickering with Sasha helps smooth things over, and soon Aliya’s sliding wry jokes into the conversation like she’s been part of their family all along.

Sasha declares a state of emergency—the emergency being that they are all starving and cold—and proposes one last race: two sleds, two teams, boys against girls. Anya volunteers to stand at the bottom and judge. That leaves Aliya and Vika sharing a sled. 

Vika says through chattering teeth, “You’re in the back.” 

“Why?”

“Because. Don’t you want to steer?”

Aliya arranges her legs around Vika. “You calling me a control freak?”

“Never.”

Aliya bumps the back of Vika’s neck with a cold nose. “You know me too well.”

“Ready?” Anya hollers from the foot of the hill.

“Ready,” Aliya whispers, breath warm in Vika’s ear. 

The boys’ sled goes out of control after Anya gives the signal. Or more likely Sasha steers them toward the girls’ sled, which is exactly the sort of thing brothers are always doing. Aliya digs a hand deep into the powder, trying to carve a turn away from the oncoming sled. The sled overbalances and the girls tumble down the hill. They slide to a halt, hear Anya yelling something about certain people trying to kill her. Sasha and Piotr are laughing a few yards away in a heap at Anya’s feet. Vika lifts her head to check on Aliya.

“You OK, Alka?”

A gloved thumb lifts into the air and flops down again. Vika grins and lets her head settle back into the snow, content to lie there in a tangle of limbs and watch her breath haze away in the freezing air. She’s cold, damp, hungry, and bone-tired, and she’s also exuberantly happy. 

They find a restaurant next and devour sandwiches and hot cocoa ( _You remembered,_ Aliya’s expression says). Afterward, they slump in the booth, too exhausted to speak. Vika leans against her brother and watches Aliya drowse with her chin propped on her hand. She wishes life could be like this all the time. 

*  *  *

They spend New Year’s Eve helping Vera cook and clean. Well, Vika helps. She doesn’t want Aliya to feel obligated. Besides, the Mustafina girls are famous for having zero domestic skills. She slides out of bed quietly and lets her friend sleep while she starts on the to-do list Vera gives her. Sasha is in and out of the house running whatever errands need to be run and Alexander is wrangling a fir and a hacksaw in the garage. From the swearing she occasionally hears, their New Year’s tree might be a little shorter than usual this year.

Her mother hollers, “Viktoria, will you call your aunt and ask her if she decided on the dishes she’s bringing?”

“OK.” She sets the duster down and pats her pockets. Crap, she left her phone on the nightstand. She eases her bedroom door open. Aliya’s awake, sprawled across the bed. She looks up at Vika over a battered copy of  _Garri Potter i Kubok ognia._

“I see you discovered my books.”

“I meant to get up, sorry. I haven’t read these in so long, I picked one up and got sucked in.”

“You’re fine … I’m just looking for something.” Vika pats her empty nightstand and looks around. “ _Accio_   _phone_!”

Aliya digs in the blankets and chucks it at her. “Your powers are impressive. For a Hufflepuff.”

Vika’s about to essay a retort (she has a soft spot for that House, but please) when she notices her wallpaper’s been changed. Aliya grimaces comically at her from under her icons. “Oh, wow, that’s attractive. No wonder all the boys are into you.”

“You love me. Admit it,” Aliya says. She stretches luxuriously. Coming up with a flippant response to that is hard enough, but Aliya’s shirt rides up to reveal her abs. That’s fucking distracting, is what that is. 

“I gotta finish, uh,” Vika says, waves vaguely at the door, and leaves before she throws herself bodily at Aliya.  _Too soon, too soon! Keep it together, Komova._  She has a plan for tonight, but it involves a bit of luck and waiting for the perfect moment. Which is not easy when the girl of her dreams is lying in her bed right now looking so utterly tempting. 

She’s just finishing dusting the mantle when that familiar alto says behind her, “You missed a spot.”

Vika takes refuge behind sarcasm. “Hey, you want to do this?”

“I’ll do whatever you need.” While Vika processes  _that_ , Aliya puts her hands on Vika’s hips and lifts her down as if helping her down from a podium. “Take me to your cleaning products.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Aliya Mustafina?”

“Oh, shut up,” Aliya says. But she’s smiling.

After they’re done straightening up the house, Alexander puts up the tree so they can decorate it. Aliya wraps Vika in tinsel and holds the end while Vika spins away. They sort through the ornaments, picking out the prettiest ones to hang. Vika turns the radio up and they dance around the tree before collapsing against each other in a giggling pile on the couch.

“It’s pretty, huh?” Vika says, looking at their handiwork.

Aliya pats her leg. Her hand lingers. “Yeah. We make a good team.”

Vera puts them to work in the kitchen next so she can make some calls, assigning Aliya to the salad and Vika to the cupcakes. From her seat, Vika can watch the snow falling softly outside. She huffs a sigh of contentment as she slathers frosting on a cupcake. Tonight’s going to be great. Tonight’s also going to be more than a little nerve-wracking, but she can deal with nerves. She totally can.

“Looking forward to the party?” Vika thinks her voice sounds a little higher than usual. Aliya doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh yes. I assume you have hilarious drunk uncles?”

“In spades, my friend.”

“Excellent.”

“The uncles, their booze, and all the other relatives will be invading around 8 or 9.”

“Will there be babies?”

“ _Babies?_ ”

“Yes, will there be babies at this party?” Aliya slides the salad into the fridge and holds her hands apart. “Miniature human beings, about yea big?”

Vika gawks at her. “Alka, you’ve officially lost it.” 

“I’m just in a good mood. And I love babies. I always play with the kids at parties.”

“Yes, there will be a few babies, you weirdo.”

“Good. Oh, you have frosting on your nose, by the way.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Right…” Aliya swiftly dips her finger into the icing bowl and bops Vika on the nose. “There.”

“Alka!” 

She chuckles, pleased with her handiwork. Vika rubs the back of her hand against her nose and regards the smear of sugar it leaves. “I could’ve frosted an entire cupcake with this.” She licks the frosting off. She has to try twice. It really is a lot of frosting. 

She glances up. Aliya’s eyes are intent on her, and are they darker brown at the moment or is she imagining things? Aliya moves closer, so close she can feel Aliya’s body heat, and Vika forgets how to breathe. ”Hold still,” Aliya says. She cups Vika’s chin in one hand, gently rubs at the remnants of frosting, and then she bends over and kisses Vika’s nose. She doesn’t pull back when she’s done. Vika looks up at that lovely face so close to hers and considers throwing caution to the wind. But the half-smile Aliya wears has a question to it, like the question Vika thought she’d seen on the platform in Moscow, and the understanding they’ve been slowly forming over the past few days is still fragile. So Vika simply runs her finger along the edge of the icing bowl and taps Aliya’s nose affectionately. 

“Missed a spot,” she says.

*  *  *

The trickle of relatives becomes a flood around 9 as the guests arrive. Vika stays close to Aliya, who tends to drift around the edges of parties if no one anchors her. They don’t speak much. Vika still feels folded in the warmth of the moments they’ve shared throughout the day. Sometimes her hand brushes Aliya’s. Purely by accident, of course.

Anya and Piotr’s family arrives and Vika collars the two youngest siblings before they race past. “Hang on a minute, guys. Alka, these little terrors are unfortunately related to me.”

Aliya squats down. “Hi. I’m Alka. How old are you?”

“Fffffour.”

“Six!”

“Wow. You look pretty big for four and six. Are you very strong?”

“I’m the strongest!” Alexei says.

“No, me!” Ivan says. Pretty soon the boys are pulling Aliya off toward the corner of the living room where Vika and Sasha’s old toys wait. Piotr hangs back, hands in his pockets. 

Anya edges up next to Vika. “I think my idiot brother is planning to follow your friend around for the entire night.”

“No worries, Anya. I’m on top of it.”

“She’s so pretty,” Anya says reflectively. She looks at Vika sidelong, hesitates. “Vika, are you…?”

Vika watches Aliya solemnly examine a toy Ivan has proffered for her inspection. She inhales slowly, thinking about midnight and the perfect moment. “I should check on my mom. She probably needs help.”

She keeps an eye on her friend throughout the evening. Aliya’s so good with kids. She accepts drawings, demonstrations of athletic skill, and being drafted to play hide-and-seek with equanimity. Right before dinner, Vika finds Aliya off in a corner holding her eight-month-old cousin and barely putting up with Piotr, who is attempting to profess his admiration.

“You are, uh, you look, tonight, uhhh.”

Vika cuts in. “Piotr, I think your mom needs you for something.”

“Oh,” he says. There’s an awkward pause before he shuffles away.

“Sorry about that.”

“Thanks for the rescue.”

“No problem. How are you doing?”

“Good. Elena here is keeping me company and your uncles are keeping me entertained. Look, they’ve already put away an entire bottle of vodka.” She nods at the drinking contest going on in the living room. Denis, Anton, and Gregor are bellowing cheerful insults at each other over their glasses. Sasha is collecting bets on who will pass out first. Vika’s already put her money on Anton.

“You want a drink? I could go get you something.”

“Maybe later. I don’t want to keep you from your family.”

Vika says lightly, “You’re family.” To little Elena: “Isn’t she?” Vika bends to drop a kiss on the baby’s wispy hair before she glances up at Aliya. Her friend looks at her steadily, closely, like she’d done in the kitchen that afternoon. Vika’s stomach turns over pleasantly. She knows how hopelessly in love she is. She wonders if Aliya knows too. “You look really nice tonight.”

“And you look gorgeous,” Aliya says. 

Of its own will, Vika’s hand drops from the baby’s stomach to Aliya’s forearm. “Alka,” she begins, but Alexander’s announcement about dinner cuts through every conversation. 

They sit next to each other, elbows and knees bumping on the crowded couch. People are spread out through the small house. It’s noisy and hot and all Vika can think about is the fact that midnight is coming soon. The gift exchange is normally one of her favorite parts, especially since her dad dresses up as Ded Moroz to hand out gifts. But she spends the entire time going over her plan in her head, what she’ll say afterward, what Aliya might say. She doesn’t even notice when her great-aunt and -uncle get up from the couch, leaving her and Aliya unnecessarily squashed together on one end. Nor does she notice the way her mother, father, and brother keep sneaking glances at them. 

Someone turns the TV on and they all listen to the president’s speech. There’s a modicum of heckling, but everyone is proud to hear him speak of the country’s achievements during the past year. Many of the guests raise their glasses toward Aliya and Vika when Putin mentions the Olympics. Vika bumps Aliya’s knee and they share a smile. 

“For the old year!” everyone toasts.

Candles are lit as the New Year approaches. Vika, Sasha, and Aliya help Vera hand out scraps of paper and pens. “Write your wish down when you hear the Kremlin chimes,” Vera tells the children. “This is the luckiest night of the year, because whatever you wish will come true. So think carefully!”

Five minutes to midnight. Out of the corner of her eye, Vika sees Piotr sidling up next to Aliya. _Oh, hell no._  She comes over and takes Aliya by the hand, pulls her into a corner to wait.

“My knight in shining armor,” Aliya murmurs.

“Shh,” Vika says, squeezing her hand.

An occasional muffled giggle or word breaks the silence. Vika closes her eyes, feeling Aliya’s presence next to her. Her stomach is in knots. The longest wait she’s experienced up till now was for her score after her all-around floor in London. Aliya had been with her too, there at the beginning. This—another beginning, if everything goes well—is something else. She’s been waiting for Aliya for months, for days, for the past few hours, but these last moments are the most exquisitely excruciating of her entire life.

The chimes sound on the television. Instantly there’s a flurry of sound and activity—everyone scribbling their wishes, passing champagne around, yelling, “Happy New Year,” hugging and backslapping, kissing each other. Vika shields her paper with her hand and writes a single word. She folds it, thrusts it into the nearby candle flame, watches it burn down and taps the ashes into her glass. She swirls her drink and downs it.  _To beginnings._

When she turns, Aliya is watching her. She’s been waiting too. “What did you wish for,  _moya lyubov_?”

“Don’t you know?” Vika says, and leans up to kiss her.

She means to be brief, to communicate her intent without scaring Aliya off. But her plan falls apart as soon as Vika’s lips touch Aliya’s. Because Aliya winds her fingers in Vika’s hair like she wants her and kisses her back like she means it, and suddenly nothing else matters. 

The chimes have long since finished sounding. Vika’s awareness slowly expands beyond the world of Aliya’s touch as she becomes conscious of a rustling noise. The other guests are noisily putting on their jackets and shoes—it’s time to go outside and see the fireworks. Vika breaks the kiss reluctantly, twines her fingers with Aliya’s again, kisses her once more because she can’t resist. She had words prepared for this stage but she’s forgotten them all. And from the look on Aliya’s face she wouldn’t have needed to say them anyway. Instead she says, ”New plan. We wait for everyone to leave and lock the door behind them.”

“I like the way you think,” Aliya says, catching her breath, reaching out to touch Vika’s cheek. But Alexei comes running up to them, concerned because he can’t find his jacket and he’s missing the fireworks, and only Alka can help him find it, so off they go.

Outside in the sub-zero Russian winter, fireworks burst across the sky. The three uncles set off firecrackers in the street as the children squeal in delight. In the darkness, Aliya’s hand finds Vika’s.

*  *  *

It’s two in the morning and the guests are leaving at last. Vika’s parents stand by the door, wishing the stragglers a happy New Year’s, as the others straighten up. The door finally closes behind the last guest. Alexander blows out a sigh. “I thought your great-aunt would never leave,” he says to Vera.

“You be thankful she came, she brought your favorite dessert,” Vera scolds him. “Now get to bed. You’ve had far too much to drink tonight, husband.”

Alexander winks at the girls as he passes them. “Can’t argue with my wife. Happy New Year. Hope we didn’t scare you off, Alka.”

“No,” Aliya says simply. “Happy New Year.”

Sasha comes by, coat in hand. “Mom, I’m going down the street to Ilya’s. I’ll be back later.” He too winks at Vika for some reason before he leaves.

“Bye, honey, don’t stay out too late. Oh, Viktoria, put those plates down. They’ll keep till morning.”

“But we’re almost done,” Vika protests.

“No, no. You girls have been so helpful all night long—oh, thank you, Alka, I’ll take that—and you should go relax. Celebrate the New Year together. I’m going to bed.” And with that,  _Vera_ winks at Vika and disappears down the hallway.

Vika is left standing there among the party detritus. What is with all the winking? Has her entire family developed an eye tic? And then it hits her. Of course her family knows. Vera would have guessed first. She was a gymnast, she knows what it’s like at Krugloye Ozero. And she knows her daughter. She hasn’t engineered this entire visit so Vika can see a friend during the holidays, but so Vika will have a girlfriend.

She’s suddenly shy about looking at Aliya, knowing what her family knows, knowing they’ve all given their blessing for Aliya and her to— “Um. Guess we should get ready for bed,” she mumbles. Her stomach churns in anticipation.

The bedroom door clicks shut behind them. Vika wonders why she feels so nervous. They’ve had their moment of truth, their beginning. It should be easy enough from here, right? Aliya’s hands settle on her hips again, not asking anything, not pressing her, just there. And it’s that which makes Vika turn around: the realization that she isn’t the only one who’s been patient. 

“How long have you known?” she asks.

Aliya smiles. “A while.”

“And you let me keep … keep trying to—”

“Seduce me?”  

“I didn’t—!” 

“It was very cute.”

“I think ‘woo’ or ‘court’ would be more appropriate,” Vika says in an injured tone.

“Hmm. Sledding, hot chocolate, cuddling, books. No, ‘seduce’ is definitely accurate.” Aliya kisses her nose again.

“What did my mother say when she invited you to come?”

Aliya’s expression turns serious. “She quoted that old saying to me. ‘As you meet the New Year, so will you spend it.’ She asked me to think about what I wanted for this year. Not for gymnastics. For myself.” She leans in as if to kiss Vika and whispers, “Oh, and she said you would have excellent baked goods.” She straightens and grins, the tease, and the weird nervousness Vika feels vanishes completely. This is Alka, her Alka, and they’ve both waited long enough.

“We do have excellent baked goods,” she says, and pulls Aliya’s head back down. “But I’m pretty sure I know something you’ll enjoy more.”

Kissing Aliya is the best thing in the universe. Vika decides she needs to do it quite regularly, especially when she discovers that Aliya can do pretty incredible things with her tongue. Vika hears herself moan. She sounds kind of ridiculous but she doesn’t care, because Aliya smiles against her mouth and pulls her even closer. Then it’s Vika’s turn to stop them.

“Wait, you know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“You kissed me at midnight. You’ll be stuck with me all year.”

“Damn it, Komova,” Aliya sighs. “Well, since it’s too late to take back my wish, I guess I can’t get rid of you now.”

“Wait, what did you wish for?”

That slow smile stretches across Aliya’s face. “Your cookie recipe, of course.”

They fall onto the bed together, giggling, and it’s clumsy and easy and beautiful.  _Yep,_  Vika thinks later,  _2013 is pretty much going to be the best year ever_.


End file.
